


Absolutions Behind Closed Doors

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-16
Updated: 2006-03-16
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Sam's an emotional person. How does she deal?  This was inspired by Tamy's fic Catharsis. And she allowed it to be a sequel. I am honoured and humbled.





	Absolutions Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

I think they'd worry if they knew. If they knew about her secret place in my arms, between my thighs, on my lips. I think they'd worry if they knew what it cost her to smile, to keep smiling. I think they'd worry if they knew what happened behind closed doors.

It's our ritual of sorts. After Cassie goes to sleep, Sam takes a shower and I remove my clothes and sit on the edge of our bed and brush my hair. She comes out, naked and wet, and kneels in front of me. The tears have already started, but she won't move again until I invite her. When I do she buries her head in my lap and cries, and sobs, and begs for absolution. I croon comforts and stroke her hair. Sometimes I know what she's talking about, mostly though she makes little sense to me. Just begs for forgiveness, for orders she followed, or questioned. For thoughts she had, for things she said, or for things she didn't say.

Poor Sam and her dysfunctional walls, they let everything in, but they don't allow more than a fraction of it to show. She won't allow herself release, so she looks to me for permission.

She cries and I comfort, and when it's over she gently spreads my knees as I lay back, and she coaxes me to orgasm, washing herself in my holy water. Then she climbs into bed and looks at me, waiting for me to be ready to exorcize her demons.

I lick her face. The taste of her tears and my juices fills my mouth. Then I move down, suckling at her breasts, healing her scars with kisses, making her soar. And when she comes down, it's straight into the depths of slumber. She never sleeps as peacefully as she does on those nights. I watch over her for a while before the sandman claims me as his own too.

I think they'd worry if they knew. If they knew how she makes me into a goddess. That in those few moments when she looks at me, naked, tears running down her face, she makes me into a divine being, the sole bestower of redemption or damnation. I think they'd worry if they knew exactly how much I loved it.


End file.
